


Blessed is the man whose quiver is full

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, Kid Fic, Kink Meme, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Post Mpreg, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Lactation kink! Dean is a breastfeeding "mother". Bonus points for multiple kids and Sam wanting to get Dean pregnant again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed is the man whose quiver is full

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn. Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/1037.html?thread=1739533#t1739533).

Sam always watches him feed the baby. Jeez, Dean can't get a minute alone sometimes. He sits there in the ancient, creaky-ass rocker Sam fished out of some sad antique store for him when their first baby, a girl that they named Alice, was two days old, and feels Sam's eyes on him as he carefully cradles their son to him and lets them latch onto his tit and suck the bejesus out of him.

It's embarrassing, that's what -- that Dean, of all people, got stuck with this carrying and feeding and mothering bullshit, that his body's never gonna be like it used to be. He's got hips now. Yep. Him and Shakira. And tits. Not bitch tits, but breasts that fill and hurt with milk, breasts just for their babies to get nourishment from. Whatever. He's still not as girly as Sam.

Alice was first, and Dean had been so fucking afraid that she wasn't Sam's, but some kind of demon spawn. Or worse, that she was demon spawn Sam had unknowingly given him; God, it was terrifying, and he'd been afraid to look at her when she was born in that bloody screaming tangle. It was only after the scream subsided and when Sam cried, "She's normal. Oh my God. She's normal, Dean. It's a girl. Oh my God!" and laughed that dorky high pitched laugh of his that Dean cracked open an eye and saw her in Sam's arms, all caught in a motel towel, quieter than he'd thought it would be. She would be. Then he promptly passed out. When he'd woken up, Sam had named her Alice and was babbling about Wonderland and beautiful dreams and shit.

Figuring out that he could breastfeed Alice wasn't hard. He'd been leaking milk for a couple of weeks before she went ahead and busted out. Gotten used to seeing all his shirts wetted down with twin waterfalls that made his big-ass stomach feel kind of sticky. But man, he hadn't been expecting it to sting like a bitch and for that tug of a hungry little mouth to be so strong, and he'd whimpered, "Sam. Fuck, she's hurting me."

But he'd stuck through it, even though they carefully switched her off onto formula ASAP, and Sam had said, "God, Dean. Your body's incredible."

"Shut the fuck up," Dean had said, offended, and cried for no reason.

He got knocked up again the very next time he let Sam fuck him, and god, it had felt good, even though he'd had a mild panic attack when his stupid smiling brother brought one of those fucking store-bought pregnancy tests home and it had turned out positive. It wasn't a one-off curse. It wasn't demon spawn (unless Alice being ahead of where all the books said she should be was some special thing, special like Sam was special). It was just... Sam kept getting him pregnant.

Alice, who had tufts of blond hair and a tiny girl version of Sam's mouth, was walking (and falling on her ass a lot) and saying words like, "Light. Twee. Dada," when the whole fucking thing happened all over again: Dean gave birth to Sam's second child, another girl.

"I get to pick the name this time, Sammy," Dean growled, almost blind from the pain, and wouldn't let up as Sam snipped her cord with his sharpest knife, slavishly cleaned her up, laughed joyously at her dark hair. "I get to! Not you! I have a name. I want the name. Want her to have the name."

"Please, Dean, just -- not after a rock song," Sam begged. "Or a porn star. Or an actress."

"What about Jodie Foster?"

"No!"

"All right, all right!" Dean turned his face, sweating hard, and watched Sam wipe all the grossness away from her wrinkly face. "August. I wanna name her August."

"August," said Sam thoughtfully, as if trying it out, and Dean didn't care what Sam said. That baby was getting named after the month she was conceived.

He tit-fed August longer than he had Alice, brain and body both more accustomed to the idea, and would sit in his rocker with her during the day, lay in their bed on his side with her during the night, let his fingers trail over her dark hair that fell out and came in lighter as she grew. He'd fall asleep with his t-shirt pulled up while she suckled from him and wake up to Sam's thumb gently wiping away drool and milk from August's cheek or Sam lifting her up and away from him to burp her.

Sam acted like he didn't know whether he should touch Dean or not, but looked like he wanted to. Alice, whose eyes were turning green slowly, said, "Da-da-da-da-da," at Dean happily, and Dean couldn't help laughing.

It wasn't very long after they moved into a for-real rental house in South Dakota with actual room for kids before Sam started talking about wanting another.

"There's no fucking room in the car for another," Dean had hissed, quietly because August and Alice were both down for naps. "And I am not driving a fucking minivan, Sam!"

"There's room for three," Sam had said, like it was logical or something. "I want a boy. Don't you? I wanna have a son."

Like that was even an issue.

"Let me give you a baby boy, Dean," Sam whispered. "A little baby boy, kickin' and yellin' and passin' on the Winchester name."

Dean was convinced - still is - that Sam worked some kind of fucking hoodoo to make it work out that the next baby was, like they wanted, a boy. This time, they had an in-case name picked out for both sexes in advance, came to an agreement on a tiny list. And the boy's name was the only one they totally agreed on.

"Nolan is one hungry little dude," Sam commented, August looking tiny on his massive chest as he held her there with her pacifier in her mouth.

"Man's gotta eat," Dean grunted happily. "Isn't that right, dude?"

"Oops. Hey, kiddo! Where'd your bunny go?" Sam said, as Alice came wandering in desolate of the floppy-eared thing she was always chewing on and chewing on her dress instead. He leaned down and plucked her dress from her mouth and took her small hand. "Here, let's leave Daddy alone. He's feeding the baby. You wanna help me feed your sister?"

It's true, Nolan's always hungry, but he takes after Dean, who's always happiest with his mouth full. This time around, Dean's like a pro, lovin' it, lovin' every suck he hears out of his baby's mouth, happily sore. Still, when Sam pops his head into the room and comes sidling over in his ginormo beanpole-person jeans and leans in, Dean feels a flush of embarrassment at the shape of his body and the fact that he's just not physically, mentally the big brother Sam grew up depending on. He feels vulnerable to Sam in some different way now, not just stupidly self-sacrifical, stupidly in love, stupidly having his babies like it isn't the single most fucked up thing ever to happen to anyone on the planet.

Nolan's pretty much sleeping with his mouth lazily open around Dean's nipple when Sam finds them in the rocker.

"Oh, hey. He's snoozin'," Dean whispers. "Y'wanna put 'im in the thingy?"

"Sure," Sam whispers back, and carefully, slowly lifts Nolan up out of Dean's arms. Dean tugs his t-shirt back down and slumps back tiredly, that vague strain of self-consciousness pulling through the core of him. It makes him get up and move to the bed instead of the rocker and pull the plaid flannel blanket up over himself. A nap sounds awesome. Babies. So beautiful. So tiring.

Sam comes back, takes off his boots, and eases into bed with him, probably looking to cuddle or something. He's just like that.

"How are you," he murmurs solicitously, kissing Dean in the center of his awkward cleavage.

"Tired. Sore," says Dean.

"Happy?" Sam asks.

Dean gives him a sleepy smile, acres deep.

"Me too," Sam says, and they both huddle there under the blanket, because neither of them have ever been all that comfortable with being honest-to-God, for-real happy. Seems like they somehow shouldn't be allowed it. "Nolan drain you dry yet?"

"Nope," Dean whispers, and closes his eyes. "'M probably leaking, actually."

Sam lifts the blanket to take a look, then pushes it down and draws Dean's t-shirt up, a movement the fabric is stretched for and used to.

"Yup," he whispers, and gently squeezes Dean's tit, making milk bead up out of his sore, sucked-on nipple and spill down across his huge hand.

"Shit," Dean mutters, hand searching on auto-pilot for one of the many spit-up rags they've got laying around, but Sam doesn't cut him a break, doesn't stop pressing with his thumb and pulling gently with his index finger, doesn't stop milking him.

"Does that hurt?" he asks instead.

"Shit. A little, yeah."

"What if I suck it?" Sam asks, husky-voiced, and Dean's body says, _Oh, man, Sammy, that's fucked up_ but his body full-on aches all over with instinct, overflowing in every way, says _please, oh, please, Sam_. Their baby boy was just attached to the nipple Sam takes in his mouth, and Sam is so much more ginger, sucks so gentle, doesn't have that line of soft baby gums, has a much huger mouth, sucks his whole tender tit in. It's so wrong, but it doesn't stop Dean from sighing, loud and exhausted and spiked through with arousal. It doesn't stop Sam from massaging Dean's breast with his hand, urging out pulls of milk that that he swirls around with his tongue wetly before swallowing. God, how fucked up. It feels so fucking good.

"Hungry?" he asks Sam, meaning for it to rib him, or make him laugh at least, but Sammy just breathes big, sighs out against Dean's chest in a hot gust that says he's as turned on as Dean is. Dean whimpers a little when Sam pulls off gently.

"This is my favorite part," his brother whispers to him. "Of this whole thing. Watching you feed our kids. Watching you look down on them. The times when it hurts you and I can see the pain on your face. The times when you like it. I think you like it. You smile... you close your eyes. Blush all over. Get hard in your pants..."

"Sam. Please."

"You don't get it. Your body's so amazing, Dean. The way it moved and adjusted to carrying the kids. The way you curve when you're showing... and your belly's full of my baby." Sam kisses Dean's stomach, which ain't exactly the six-pack it used to be. "The way you can actually _feed_ them. I get hard just watching you walk when you're pregnant, let alone... leaking so much milk. Even when you're already pregnant, all I can think about is knocking you up again."

Dean is stunned. The only thing he can think is of the moments, all three, when he realized he was pregnant and went into denial, hyperventilated, cried a single tear and sniffed and wiped it away on Sam's shoulder as they hugged. The mere idea of all that shit getting Sam aroused - he doesn't know what to think.

"You wanna get me pregnant again?" he asks, low, voice scraping raw.

"Wanna make another baby in you," Sam confirms, sliding heavily atop him, "and suck all that milk you're making for our babies while I'm fucking you..."

"Just... just... no minivan, Sam. Ever," Dean gasps. His cock is so fucking hard.


End file.
